


Save It For The Morning After

by Tealybob



Category: Arctic Monkeys
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 08:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3761782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tealybob/pseuds/Tealybob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ONE NIGHT STAND BEFORE THE FIRST DAY OF YOUR NEW JOB AND OOPS THAT WAS YOUR NEW BOSS YOU WERE SLEEPING WITH AU (except that it's not the boss and instead it's your new band member)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save It For The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> The events below did not take place in real life.

Miles had developed numerous talents over the course of his three decades on the earth. The most well known ones being those of musical matters. And while those talents were important and crucial to his well being (he's just been asked to join a band, thanks to those talents), there was one that he held more dear to his heart.  
  
It was a small talent. Not even a talent, really. It was just an ability that he knew very few others could do. He could wake up without opening his eyes. He could stir from a deep slumber and hear the sounds of car horns out the window and smell the gasoline from outside before he climbed from the black of his dreams. He could think about his agenda for the day and run through things he needed to keep in mind and mentally prepare himself for the next twenty-four hours without needing to be refreshed by the new light of day.  
  
But it also came in handy when he had a visitor still in his bed from the previous night. He could feel the presence (or hopefully, lack there of) of the body beside him and know whether it was safe to open his eyes or not.  
  
But that morning... it was a different morning. While laying still, eyes wide shut and blocking out the day ahead of him, he slowly started to recall the previous night. The new club on fifth and Wilder. Fifth and Wild, more like. The smell of his favorite pack of smokes. Tipsy girls parading around in little more than swimming suits. The music all to his taste. But the man in the back, hanging around the DJ booth, with his drink in hand, and cigarette hanging from two fingers, out of place in his turtle neck, was Miles's favorite part.  
  
Miles smiled and stretched his legs out, turning his head from the window to the other side of his bed, where, praise all that is good, he still felt someone next to him. And if he focused, he could smell the brand of smoke that had shaped his entire evening the night before.  
  
"Do you always smile in your sleep or are you just faking it?"  
  
Fuckin' hell. That voice never got old, did it? Even when he was sober, it ran through Miles's head like a song.  
  
He would have smiled wider if he hadn't already been grinning. He opened his eyes, and sitting up against the headrest was the messy haired beauty from the club - turtle neck not included. He was smoking again, and staring down at Miles with shadows of his eyelashes hanging low on his cheeks. Damn the morning light and all it's majestic effects.  
  
"Nice place," he continued, nodding at the room. "Guess I weren't paying much attention last night to notice, but..." He nodded once more and took a long inhale. "It's a nice place."  
  
"It looks all the better with you in it."  
  
The guy (Miles realized he couldn't remember his name) scoffed and looked down at his cigarette. "Fuckin' hell... I'm already in your bed, mate, no need to woo me anymore."  
  
Miles stretched his hands up. "Just trying to keep you in your talkative state." Holding in a yawn, he reached over and pulled the cigarette from his companion's lips. "Because if I remember correctly," he said around the bum, "you weren't much of a talker last night."  
  
He didn't mind the stolen cigarette - that, or he didn't comment on it - but he watched it every second it was between Miles's lips. "I'm a bit shy, me."  
  
Yeah, shy. Wouldn't have said that earlier with all the biting that was happening less than nine hours ago...  
  
Miles took a final drag and handed the cigarette back to ... the man next to him. "What are you still doing here, then? Shy people normally run for the hills before-"  
  
"Before they call you out for fake sleeping?"  
  
Miles mirrored the other man's smirk. God, he was gorgeous. Hair in his eyes, bare chest a tan contrast against the white sheets pooled around his waist, lips chapped, smoke curling up around his head, small chain around his neck. Miles remembered it shining with the night stand lamp when the sun had been down. It was one of many small details that had made him just that much more intoxicating to Miles. "I'm normally better at keeping a dead-panned face."  
  
The other man smirked and exhaled smoke down across Miles's chest. "Same with me."  
  
Miles sat up slowly, eyes watching smirking lips. "Does you sitting here mean that you're not in a mad rush to be anywhere?"  
  
He inhaled slowly, this time the clear air, and considered his rapidly-shortening cigarette. "Oh, I do. I just thought I'd have a smoke first. See if you woke up."  
  
"I'm awake now."  
  
"And me smoke's done. I guess I can leave now, can't I?"  
  
Miles reached for his pack of cigs on his bedside table, lit one, and swapped it for the dead one. "There. Five more minutes."  
  
They hadn't smoked that cigarette. That one burned in his temporary lover's fingers while they kissed one another lazily, his hand held up over Miles's shoulder and out of the way. There had been more words said, but they were little nothings, both of them avoiding any topic of acknowledging that neither remembered the other's name. Miles had pulled on some pants, and the other man had left after a third cigarette. Now Miles walked through the streets on his way to his new gig - which one of his second or third favorite talents had earned him.  
  
He'd been nervous about starting up a new band. That was why he'd been out the night before, in fact. Celebrating and trying to drink away the nerves. He'd been hooked up to play with the lead singer from one of England's top-rising bands of the year. It was a big step for him, sure, taking a side job from the Rascals, and he was more terrified than excited.  
  
Well, at least for the moment, he wasn't. He had a high, rather than a hangover. Maybe his new team would consist of someone else in a turtleneck. Someone to try and match his new bar of expectations for one night stands.  
  
Miles chuckled to himself outside of the new studio. Not bloody likely.  
  
The secretary of the building looked up with raised eyebrows. "Can I help you get somewhere?"  
  
"The Shadow Puppets party?"  
  
She clicked her tongue. "You're a tad late. Third floor."  
  
Miles didn't bother with a sassy 'You're a tad rude.' He headed towards the elevators.  
  
Third floor. The signs lead him down a long hall, and he stepped into an office where he recognized his producer's face. "Ah, Miles. Glad you could show up twenty minutes late."  
  
"Pleasure as always to you too."  
  
His producer was kind enough not to roll his eyes. "Say hello to your new band members. James Ford, from Simian, and Alex Turner, from Arctic Monkeys."  
  
There was a small intake of breath to Miles's left, and he turned, then paled.  
  
"Fuckin' hell."

**Author's Note:**

> au drabble requested on ivenoticed-twice | tumblr.


End file.
